


Live Wire

by Vaderfanboi



Category: The Dirt (2019), The Dirt (2019) Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Violence, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaderfanboi/pseuds/Vaderfanboi
Summary: You have to go to a "glam rock" concert for work and it's not something you wanna waste your Friday night on. You get harassed by some dirtbag and Mick Mars, the guitarist for the most infamous rock band ever catches you fighting him off





	Live Wire

**Author's Note:**

> I might go wild and write fics for all the guys but who knows???

Mick Mars loved women. He loved them a lot, but the women who were around him so often weren’t looking for love, they were looking for sex. Of course there was nothing wrong with sex, Mick loved that, too. But he knew those girls were temporary. It frustrated Mick to watch his band mates hurting the women they said they loved by cheating on them. They were kids, though and they had time to figure out what they really wanted; Mick didn’t think he did. His body ached in ways that couldn’t be translated into language and he wanted someone to be there with him, making the pain ease. 

You loved being alone. You loved your personal space and your freedom that no relationship could grant you. After being in a few too many controlling relationships, you cancelled the concept as a whole. You would wear a fake wedding ring to bars and tell men you were taken. You hated that phrase, ‘taken’. You can’t take a person, they aren’t property. Living alone was incredibly easy for you, too because you didn’t get much of a choice. People always thought you were just a little… off. Something was different about you and it made interaction just a bit too stressful to be worth much to you. That’s why you were less than ecstatic when your boss bought you tickets to see some gaudy rock show for a band you never listened to. You worked in a small, private radio station and you reviewed popular music. You had to visit concerts from time to time but you usually got seats. This time, you had general admission. You were going to have to suck it up if you wanted to keep your job, though.

The concert started at ten in the evening which was a stupidly late show in your opinion. The entire crowd was inebriated and manic which meant they would be awful once the band actually plays. The opening band wasn’t half bad but you could tell they were going nowhere. Still, you took as many notes as you could in the poorly lit hall. Finally, the band came on the stage and you had to physically restrain yourself from walking out.The band members were twice as wasted as the crowd and wore heinous costumes. What was more shocking than the costumes was how transfixed the girls at the front of the crowd were. The lifted their tops and grabbed at the band’s feet like they were Gods. What could those girls possibly be seeing? The music was even worse than the environment. The lead singer’s pitchy vocals and the obnoxious instrumentals made you wish you brought earplugs. At least the band’s name was interesting; Motley Crue. You tried taking more notes but the crowd behind you moved closer and you were pushed forward, packed so tightly that you couldn’t move your arms. You had a hard time breathing and you began to feel very nervous. 

A man behind you grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his groin. He made a grinding movement onto your ass and you elbowed him in the chest to push him off but he wouldn’t budge. When he sucked your neck, slobbering down your shoulder, you decided you had enough. Enough of this man, this concert, this night. You turned around to confront him but he greeted your expression of fury with one of pride. Without thinking, you punched him in his proud mouth. The man fell backwards into the crowd. “FUCK, WHY DID-” was all you heard him say before he was trampled by the masses behind you. You tried to squeeze your way out of the hall but you just managed to get closer to the stage.

This concert began rather ordinarily for Mick Mars. A bunch of brain dead groupies gathered in front of the stage, junkies were sniffing the corners of the hall for a generous stranger’s kindness, and Mick was tired before he even started. It wasn’t even ten minutes into the show before a fight broke out in the crowd. But hold on, this wasn’t a real fight, Mick watched as a girl decked a man twice her size right in the teeth. His mouth was bleeding, immediately and he yelled something that was drowned out by the music. And the girl, she didn’t give that loser a second thought as she moved toward the front of the stage. As she approached the stage for air, Mick could see her hand was bleeding and in need of attention. She held it close to her body as the crowd pushed her closer to the platform he was on. 

You were completely out of breath and you were positive your hand was broken. Feeling vulnerable and wounded, you tried looking anywhere but behind you. When you looked up, you saw a pair of bright eyes outlined in black staring back at you. This was the lead guitarist making eye contact with you. What were you supposed to do, wave? This wasn’t a situation you had ever been in before. You never actually met the bands you saw, you were just a critic for a really small station. Following your gut, you waved at him with your injured hand which he stared and grimaced at. Did you just make a rockstar cringe? You would have thought he was used to some gore by now. 

Wow your hand was broken, was all Mick could think when he saw your hand. But you waved at him which was so bizarre in this environment as he was more used to being flashed than being waved at. You were definitely catching his attention but first, you needed medical attention. Once the song ended, Mick spoke over Vince. “Can someone get that girl backstage to a fucking doctor?” He asked, pointing to you.

Wait, did you hear that correctly? Was the lead guitarist of this famous band pointing to you? You looked behind you and noticed you were being watched by everyone surrounding you. Yup, he was pointing at you. A man walked up to you and walked you out of the crowd, pulling on your arm gently. The guitarist watched as you walked away and you waved ‘goodbye’ to him. A woman from the crowd also followed, explaining she was a nurse. 

“I always bring a first aid kit to these things” She said as she set your hand in a makeshift splint. “Everyone is always getting into fights. It’s like war out there” She sighed to herself. 

You admired her crafting and drank some water to calm yourself. She told you that you wouldn’t be needing any stitches but you should see your professional after this. The nurse left and the man who escorted you out introduced himself as “Doc”. 

“You’re a doctor too?” You asked, confused. 

“No, I just try to keep those idiots alive” He said, bitterly. You realized he had a more managerial relationship with the band. “Would you care to explain how your hand got that way?” He asked you. 

Not trying to justify your actions to this stranger, you shrugged, “What hand?” You asked, getting up to leave. Just as you reached the door, it was opened from the other side and hit you on your shoulder “Ow” You said, dully. This was becoming a painful concert. 

The person who swung the door revealed himself as the same man who called for your rescue. “Shit, sorry” He apologized, giving you some space. He was an odd-looking guy. You hadn’t seen many people with his style before, all leather and metal, and his face covered in makeup. He was incredibly tall in his platform boots as well, leaving you feeling short in your flats. He introduced himself as Mick Mars which had to be a stage name. “How is it?” He asked you.

You felt your shoulder. “It might bruise but I’ll be fine” You answered, realizing too late he meant your hand. Mick rolled his eyes. “Oh it’s shattered. I need to see a doctor tomorrow” 

Mick lifted your arm to examine your hand which was covered in bloody gauze. “Sit down” He ordered, and you did. “Pour her a drink” He told the Doc, so he did. Mick sat down beside you on the couch and pulled his boots off. Once he wiped his makeup off with a rag, he looked human. You didn’t know what you expected under the makeup, but it wasn’t the average person in front of you. “What happened?” He asked.

Again, you shrugged. “It slipped” You lied. Both Mick and the Doc gave you a stern look which made you shrink. “A guy just wasn’t taking a hint so gave him a bigger one” You waved your hand a bit. “Is the show over already? I was supposed to write this review but I got kinda… sidetracked” You asked, taking the drink Doc handed you. It tasted disgusting so you chugged it, shivering from the alcohol. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t gonna be a full set tonight, anyway. The guys wanted to fit some partying in” Mick explained. “What were you gonna put in your review?” He asked. You took out your notepad and showed him your notes. “Brutal” Mick sighed at your harsh criticism.

“It’s not my kinda scene. My boss probably sent me here knowing I’d trash this concert. We get better ratings when I do” You explained, not wanting this complete stranger to be upset with you. He had helped you, afterall. He didn’t say anything in response but nodded in understanding. 

The door to the room opened and the three other band members walked in, one jumping over the back of the couch, planting himself next to you. The other two went straight for the bar. “Hi there” He wrapped his long, leather-clad arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Does Mick have dibs on you yet?” He asked, pissing you off.

“Fuck off, Tommy. She broke a guy’s face for less” Mick was already feeling protective over you, and a bit jealous. Tommy was his brother, but he could have anyone else on the tour, not you. Tommy heeded his warning and let you go.

A skinny, blonde man, the lead singer if you remembered correctly, pointed at you with a drink in his hand, “Oh yeah, you had that fucked up hand. Did you deck a guy or something?” He handed you a drink of whatever and you nodded before gulping it down, too. “That’s heavy metal” He noted. “What’s your name, killer?” He asked. 

“(Y/N)” You answered. Mick realized this was the first time he had heard your name and he liked it a lot. “I work at a nearby radio station and I was supposed to review you guys but I didn’t really get a chance to hear you” You groaned, thinking about what your boss was going to say. You could always make up some bullshit but you liked having some journalistic integrity.

Mick Mars, who could see you were pretty upset with how the night’s events unfolded, made a suggestion. “Or we could just go on this radio show ourselves and tell everyone how it went” He offered. You were shocked. The rest of the band was even more surprised.

You stared at him, jaw locked open. “I’m down, you earned it after going into battle” Vince said, looking up from the table he was snorting a bump off of. Vince pointed to your braced hand and was clearly impressed. Tommy and Nikki both agreed to do the interview as well. 

“Holy shit, thank you. I’ll get you guys my info” You said, writing your work number and fax on a scrap of notebook paper, handing it to Mick who touched your hand lightly as he took it. The other members of the Crue said it was no problem and that it was nice meeting you but they had a party to throw. They all left the room except for Mick who still sat across from you. “I really can’t thank you enough for this and for getting me some help” You played at the blood drying on your nails. You hoped it was yours. You offered your good hand for Mick to shake.

He took your hand in his. “You should come to this party” Mick suggested. Yet again, he caught you off guard. "It probably won't be your scene and you might punch someone, but you should come along" 

You thought about it for a moment. You just met this guy and you would most likely be making a mistake trusting him, but you couldn't live with yourself wondering 'what if'. "Okay, I'll go" you agreed, finally letting go of Mick's hand after realizing you had been holding it for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> More love for Mick because i finished my finals and i'm STILL the only one writing fics for him. I know there's some thirsty groupies out there who wants this content. Thanks for reading, please comment any thoughts or feelings you have about my work or really anything i love chatting with y'all


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